Remember Me
by Bookworm Gal
Summary: It had been a long time since he sang this lullaby. Especially after hearing how it had been twisted and misused. The song had been butchered enough for a lifetime. But perhaps he could sing it the way he intended it to be. He could sing it for his Coco one more time.


**Once again, Disney/Pixar has proven that they are amazing and very talented at twisting our emotions into knots. I watched "Coco" and I loved it. And just in case the film wasn't emotional enough, fanfiction popped into my brain afterwards. So… yeah…**

 **Obviously, beware of spoilers. If you haven't already seen the film, then what are you doing here? And just in case you're thinking I work for Disney (sorry, they just own my soul), none of this belongs to me.**

 **And yes, I am going for the most obvious title possible for this fandom.**

Remember Me

The tearful boy's skull starting to show through his face as they cut it far too close to the deadline, Héctor and Imelda managed to press the _cempazúchitl_ petal against Miguel. Their combined blessing sent their great-great-grandson back to Saint Cecilia in a swirl of brilliant orange marigold petals. As dawn broke over the horizon, Miguel was finally back where he belonged and safe.

Héctor smiled at the now-empty space for a moment longer. Miguel would be all right now. And Héctor had somehow managed to have the chance to meet his great-great-grandson and see how amazing the boy was. Miguel even called him Papá Héctor before he left and claimed to be proud of his relation to the dead musician, a gift that Héctor didn't expect to receive this late.

But his smile evaporated as golden light flared up from his body, making him gasp and collapse back the rest of the way on the uncaring stone. It didn't hurt much; there wasn't the sudden and sharp pain cutting through him like his first death. Being forgotten by those in the Land of the Living, the Final Death, wasn't quite as harsh or so cruel. The only pain was a dull ache deep in his bones.

But even if it wasn't agony, the overall sensation was uncomfortable and unpleasant. Like how the sound of nails on a chalkboard made your skin crawl, only without the sound or the skin. And far more intense. Even worse, every flare of that golden light stole away his strength and less returned to him each time.

The light dimmed once more and Héctor tried raising his head again. He certainly didn't have the strength to try sitting up. He wasn't going to last much longer.

Héctor had spent decades in the lowest levels of the Land of the Dead, those with no _ofrendas_ to return to each year and no offerings from living families and friends. Chicharrón was not the first he'd seen fade away. Héctor knew that the speed of the Final Death depended on what happened with the last person to remember.

If the final person died, taking those memories with them to the grave, it didn't take long. Chicharrón seemed to be like that. Only a few flashes of golden light glowing from his exhausted body and he was gone within the length of a song.

But if the living simply forgot, it was slower. Memory could fray and tatter over the years, but it could sometimes still be sparked and pulled back even after a long time. And until the memories were truly beyond reach, until there was nothing left and that person would never be able to recall, the dead would linger. But only for a little while.

His Coco remembered a man she hadn't seen since she was four years old. She held onto that memory for over ninety years. But she was finally forgetting him. His daughter…

"He will be all right," said Imelda, still kneeling beside him. "Miguel is with his family again. We got him home."

Héctor met the gaze of the woman that he still loved even after all these decades, even when she hated him. Her expression was hard for him to read at that moment. She seemed to be trying to reassure him, there was relief over Miguel's fate, and he could still see the old embers of the same anger that she'd worn whenever she saw him in the past decades. But there was something sad in his beautiful wife's face that didn't belong there. And if he didn't know better, Héctor almost thought he saw regret.

He wanted to say something to Imelda. For the first time in so long, he could speak to his wife and she might actually listen. And it would be his last chance. She deserved—

Another flare of light, one far sooner than he expected, struck hard.

* * *

Imelda watched the faded yellow bones, a sign of the dying memories that long preceded the final moments of forgetting, dim once more. She watched Héctor gasping as he grew weaker with each passing moment. She watched as he slipped closer to being completely forgotten by the living and succumbing to the Final Death.

She watched it happening to the man that she once married, the one she sang beside for so long, and the one she had a daughter with. She watched it happening to Héctor and knew it was her fault.

He left her and Coco. He left them and chose music. Imelda had to raise Coco alone and provide for her family without any help, even the money and letters that he sent home in the first few months cutting off abruptly. She gave up so much and worked hard to give her family everything that she could. Nothing could change those facts.

But he tried to come home. He tried to come back to his family and was murdered for that choice. And he spent decades without anyone placing his photograph on the family _ofrenda_. He spent decades alone and forgotten. Imelda ensured that generations of the Rivera family hated the man without knowing anything else about him. They never heard about how charming, determined, and caring he could be. Many never even learned his name.

And now Héctor was being forgotten because of what she'd done. Because she ensured her grandchildren and great-grandchildren would hate him and never learn anything about him except that musicians were selfish people who chose music over those they should love and music had torn apart their family.

Imelda was not one to second-guess herself. She was not one to change her mind once she made a decision. And she was not one to admit that she could make mistakes. But no matter what mistakes that Héctor might have made, he had already more than paid for them. He had already suffered more than he deserved.

He did not deserve this fate. Her Héctor did not deserve what she had done to him.

Imelda glanced back at the rest of their family. They stood a short distance away, Julio holding his hat in his hands while the twins quickly followed suit. But she could see their discomfort and uncertainty. They felt sorry for him, but didn't know how to react. Not in that moment. They couldn't seem to approach him and Imelda as he was forgotten.

Most of them didn't know Héctor. Not beyond what Imelda told them, a few short sentences about a useless musician abandoning his family and how the woman built a life without any help. They didn't know Héctor as a person; they only knew him as plot point in Imelda's story.

She shouldn't have done that. He didn't deserve to be forgotten.

But it was too late. There was nothing she could do to change what was happening. Héctor couldn't be saved.

There wasn't much that could be done, but perhaps she could give Héctor a little comfort before it was over. She could give him that much. Very gently, Imelda reached over and pulled him closer until she could rest his skull on her lap.

As she moved him, his hand reached up to brush against her wrist while also drawing her attention to the fact part of his arm was held together with tape. But it was a timid and shaking touch and he started to pulling back almost instantly, as if he didn't believe he deserved even that brief moment. Or perhaps thinking that she would reject it. Imelda caught his hand before it slipped back to the ground, threading her fingers between his. With Héctor's head resting on her lap, she settled their clasped hands on his chest and cupped his face with her free hand.

He looked up at her with so much confusion and regret in his eyes. And exhaustion. He looked so very, very tired. But Héctor also stared at her with undisguised love, undiminished by the years of separation.

"I'm sorry," he said, tightening his grip slightly. "I'm so… so sorry, _mi amor_."

She closed her eyes and said softly, "I know."

The apology didn't erase the years of pain and anger. It didn't erase years of heartache, frustration, and struggle. It didn't erase the loneliness and how even the thought of music reminded Imelda of the man who abandoned their family. The apology didn't erase what happened.

But no matter how much anger and hatred she felt over the years for what happened, part of her still loved him. And that part would always love him. That was the part of her that accepted the apology.

Golden light reappeared as his dull bones glowed, Héctor's hand going limp in her grip as shuddering gasps shook his frame. Imelda wished that there was something she could do to save him from what was happening, but there was nothing that the dead could do to change his fate. A fate that she doomed him to suffer. She couldn't help him. She couldn't stop this.

* * *

Héctor struggled to catch his shaking breath as the glow and the uncomfortable sensation that accompanied it faded gradually. They were certainly more frequent than before and more intense, but it also felt like each flare of light was lasting longer. Coco's memories of him were nearly gone beyond all reach. His time was up.

In some ways, it was a better final night than what he could have imagined. He met his great-great-grandson. He got to hear Imelda sing one last time, even playing accompaniment for her song. And now she was holding him close, like he never thought she would again. He wasn't alone. It was more than he could have expected.

But he wished with all his soul that he could have seen his daughter one last time. Even if she forgot him, Héctor would have given anything for just a moment. It would have been worth the Final Death if he could have caught even a glimpse of his Coco.

He tried to tighten his grip on Imelda's hand, but his fingers barely twitched. He was so tired. There was not much strength left in his bones.

"Please, tell Coco I'm sorry," he whispered. "Tell her…"

What could he say to his daughter? What could he say to let her know how much he loved her, how much he missed her, and how much he wished that he made it home to her? What could he give his Coco? What words of comfort or pleas for forgiveness would be adequate for what he wished to express? What could he leave her when he was gone?

Héctor didn't have much to offer, but he had one idea. There was only one thing that he could give her that might be worth anything to her.

"When you see Coco," he said quietly, "please—"

He choked on his words as the light and the unpleasant sensation swept over him again. Héctor almost thought it would be the last time, lasting for several seconds with no end in sight, but it finally faded again. But it stole away what little energy he had left. There was almost no strength left in his body. He could barely keep his eyes open.

"I'll tell her you're sorry," reassured Imelda, her voice wavering slightly. His vision seemed to be blurring, so he couldn't make out her expression clearly anymore. "I'll let her know what truly happened, that you did try to come home to us."

He wanted Coco to know that, but there was something else. There was only one way to tell her everything she deserved to hear from him.

"Tell her," Héctor whispered. Taking a shaking breath, he sang weakly, "Remember me. Though I have to say… goodbye."

It had been a long time since he sang this lullaby. Especially after hearing how it had been twisted and misused. The song had been butchered enough for a lifetime. But perhaps he could sing it the way he intended it to be. He could sing it for his Coco one more time.

Or at least sing it to his wife so Imelda could pass it onto Coco someday. It was the best he could do. It would have to be enough.

For both Coco and Imelda.

"Remember me," he continued, struggling to get the words out. His eyes slipped closed as his strength melted away. "Don't… let it… make you cry…"

It was getting harder to keep singing. It was getting harder to resist the pull to just give in to his exhaustion. But even with his breathing shaking and voice fading, Héctor sang his final lullaby for his daughter.

"For even… if I'm… far away… I… hold you… in my heart..."

Héctor felt numb and tired. He couldn't even feel Imelda's hand anymore. There was a sense of peace to it, though. But he had to finish…

"I sing… a secret… song… to you… each… night… we…"

* * *

Hearing Héctor singing again, even with his voice so fragile and weak, brought back far too many emotional memories for Imelda. Memories of songs, dancing, and laughing with the love of her life. Memories that she tried to forget for so long. Memories she once treasured.

And then his voice failed and he trailed off in mid-song, falling silent and still. The hand that she held was completely limp. And rather than the sudden flare of light, the golden glow from before began more gradually. It illuminated his bones brightly and showed no signs of fading this time. Instead, it continued to grow brighter until the golden-orange light nearly hid his body from sight. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say it was like the faded yellow bones were being replaced by glowing light.

Imelda thought she had long since spilled all the tears that she would over Héctor. She thought she would never again weep because of that man.

But as she felt the weight on her lap growing lighter, Imelda felt her cheekbones grow wet.

"I'm sorry, _mi amado_ ," she whispered, already knowing it was too late and he would never hear her apology.

Then her hand slipped through her husband's, nothing solid left to hold.

* * *

No one truly knew what came after the Final Death. Not really. But slipping into it wasn't so bad, not at the end. Not once it was so close.

No pain or discomfort anymore. No fear or panic. Just quiet and calm, like he was just falling asleep. Weightless, detached, and disconnected.

But the indistinct and vague sense of drifting away into peaceful silence… was disturbed. A faint and distant sound gently tugged him to a stop, anchoring him.

" _Remember me. Though I have to travel far._ "

He didn't recognize the weak and ancient voice singing from a world away. Not that he was certain that he was truly hearing it. He didn't recognize the sound. Not really. But even if he didn't recognize the voice, he still knew it somehow.

" _Remember me. Each time you hear a sad guitar._ "

The song held him in place. No, not the song. The memories connected to the song. Memories pulled back from the brink of oblivion.

Memories of him.

" _Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be._ "

Héctor didn't feel numb and weightless anymore. And he wasn't drifting away or just remaining in this in-between state. He was falling back.

His Coco remembered.

" _Until you're in my arms again… Remember me._ "

* * *

"Mamá Imelda?" asked Julio cautiously. "Is… that supposed to happen?"

She couldn't respond, staring at the golden light in front of her. It should have drifted away like dust in the breeze almost instantly. But it stayed in place, still holding the vague shape of a figure. The warm glow stayed with her.

Then Imelda watched the golden light dim. But it left something solid and real behind.

Light solidified into bones. Faded yellow bones that gradually brightened to a reassuring white. Then after a moment of silent and timid hope, Héctor took a deep breath and opened his eyes. When he met her gaze, he gave a small smile.

"She didn't forget," he said quietly, equal parts relieved and warmed by the realization. "Coco remembers me."

"How?" asked Rosita.

Imelda smiled and said without any doubt, "Miguel. He found a way."

Sitting up slowly, Héctor said, "He certainly is not one to give up easily." Looking at her nervously, he said, "I know—"

His words were cut off as Imelda pulled him into a tight hug, sudden enough that she nearly knocked him back down. He came back. He came back to her.

She spent too many years hating him, even after death. Too many years where she was too angry and proud to listen, to even consider that she didn't know everything about what happened. And when she finally learned that her years alone were because of another, were because of what Ernesto de la Cruz did, Imelda nearly lost him a second time.

She nearly lost Héctor forever because of her mistakes in life. But he came back. He came back this time.

And she would not risk losing her husband again.

Héctor initially stiffened at her unexpected move, but he eventually relaxed and returned her embrace. She had missed this. She had missed _him_. More than she would ever admit. More than she could have ever believed.

"You still are," she whispered.

"Are what?" asked Héctor, pulling back just enough to look her in the face.

Imelda, hesitating only a moment, admitted, "The love of my life. And, perhaps, of my death."

Two quick clattering sounds drew their gazes back to the rest of their family. Apparently her actions stunned them enough for Oscar and Felipe's jaws to drop. Literally. The twins fumbled for them on the ground for a few seconds, initially grabbing the wrong ones before trading.

"What?" she snapped sharply. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," yelped Julio, ducking his head while yanking his hat back on.

"Good." Then Imelda turned back towards the smiling skeleton with his arms still around her. "And don't think this means I've forgotten everything. I've spent a long time upset with you for leaving, no matter what happened afterwards. That won't disappear immediately. But that does not mean you don't deserve a chance."

"A chance is more than enough," he said. He reached up to cup the side of her face. "A chance to be with you again? A chance to see Coco again? That's more than enough."

For a moment, as she stared into his eyes, it was like time had rolled back decades and Héctor was once more than young musician asking her to marry him. And she was a young woman, not yet as hardened by life even if she had already been a force to be reckoned with, who only knew one way to answer that question.

So just as she did so long ago, Imelda leaned in and kissed the man she loved.

 **Judging by the writing that states the Riveras are "shoemakers since 1921," that would mean that Héctor probably died then or a little before (depending on how long it took Imelda to get established). And assuming that Miguel lives in the present, that means that Héctor hasn't seen his daughter in over ninety years. Got to give the guy credit: he doesn't give up easily.**

 **Once more, "Coco" is a fantastic movie and I adored it. And I'm so glad that it had a happy ending because it came really close to having a bittersweet or sad one. It is definitely worth watching multiple times. And I loved the music.**

 **Remember, writers love feedback. We thrive on it.**


End file.
